


Devour You

by Forevermore_Fiction



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Bowers Gang - Freeform, Derry, F/M, Fanfiction, IT - Freeform, IT 2017 - Freeform, Patrick Hockstetter - Freeform, Reader Insert, Sequel, Stephen King - Freeform, Wrong room, bowers gang fanfiction, bowers gang headcanon, derry maine, maine, owen teague - Freeform, patrick hockstetter x reader, wrong room sequel, x Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 17:02:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20604248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forevermore_Fiction/pseuds/Forevermore_Fiction
Summary: (A Sequel to The Wrong Room)Patrick Hockstetter x ReaderRequests:Please make a sequel to The Wrong Room 😍Nsfw for wrong room sequelI’m going to find out where you live. And I’m going to come to your house and break into your room and fuck you…” YES YES YES PLEASEWord Count: 5,119Rating: NSFWWarnings: Patrick Hockstetter, stalking, sadism, biting, choking, hair-pulling, knifeplay (non-con), bloodplay, hematophagia kink (?), possessiveness, obsession, psychopathy, solipsism, dub-con





	Devour You

Link to [The Wrong Room](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20604011/chapters/48920264)

You miss your last class, sitting on one of the benches in the locker room and touching along each indent of the teeth-marks left behind in your neck. You hadn't realized how much the wound hurt until after Patrick had left the room, and now, sitting in dazed shock, you were fully aware of the throbbing pain.

_ His. _

You hadn't really understood what was happening at the time, lost in a warped reality as Patrick had pressed you up against your gym locker, assaulting you, claiming you, _ kissing you _, oh how he had kissed you. It had taken your breath away, for just that warped moment, feeling his clothed erection poking at your thigh and crotch. You had gone insane, you had sworn you had.

_ I'm going to find out where you live... _

And then as soon as he had appeared, he had been gone, leaving you in this state of foreign unconsciousness. It wasn't until the bell rang, shrill and shocking, echoing across the room that you were thrust back into reality. You jump to stand up, looking around.

2:30. It was 2:30, that's when the last bell rang. Girls would be coming in to change for their after school practice, and you were still standing around in your underwear. You quickly open your locker back up and grab your clothes, dressing yourself. You feel the throbbing of the bite on your neck and you gasp, covering it with your hand. You can't walk out with that so visible for everyone to see. You quickly close your locker and run over to one of the sinks and turn the water on, looking at the bite in the mirror.

It's deep… it's so deep, that if he had sunk his teeth any deeper, he might have been able to take the flesh right off of your neck, and devour you. You were sure he wanted to. You were sure he would, if he could. Devour you…

You pull a paper towel out of the dispenser and wet it under the running water, wringing it out to make it damp, then dab it gently on your bleeding skin. You wince, but continue to clean it up until the blood is only bubbling up in the crevices of the wound. You shut the water off, and throw the used towel in the trash, then take your hair down out of the ponytail you've had it in all day, running your fingers through it until you're satisfied that his mark on you is covered.

You hear girls starting to come into the locker room, and you quickly gather the rest of your things, leaving before they come in and start trying to talk to you.

_ Meet me out front… _

You walk out the front door slowly, stopping once you're down the stairs and feeling the river of students rushing past you, shoving past you as if you were just a rock in their path. You look around the school yard, trying to find him. Did you _ want _ to find him? Did you have a choice?

Either way, you don't see him anywhere in the yard. You continue walking, stepping onto the sidewalk and starting to walk towards your house, still looking around to see if you can't spot him. You look ahead with a sigh, picking up your pace and walking home as usual.

\---

He feels as though he's invisible. Your eyes fall on him so many times, you look right at the spot where he's hiding, and you continue walking. Maybe you're teasing him… or maybe you really don't see him. Whatever your reason for not coming to him, he's going to make you pay. You stop looking around, looking ahead, and he creeps out of his hiding spot, shoving past the students that stand in his straight line to the sidewalk and keeping his eyes fixed on you as you walk, going into observation mode.

_ No one's around at this time to pick you up from school. _

As soon as he reaches the sidewalk he stops, looking ahead for a moment, then turning so that he's following you. You have no idea, walking unsuspecting towards your house, leading him there. He follows down streets around corners, until finally you turn into a driveway, starting to go through your backpack. He crosses the street quickly, hiding behind one of your neighbor's trees. They aren't home anyway… he watches you as you groan a bit and put your backpack back over your shoulder, looking around, then going on your toes to reach behind the light next to the door, pulling something off, then unlocking the door.

_ Spare key. _

You stick they key back behind the light and go into your house, going in and closing the door. He grins. He knows how to get in now, he'll just go home and get a few things, then come back and do what he wants…

Or maybe he shouldn't waste time. What if your parents come home? But then again… housebreaking? In broad daylight…?

He leaves his hiding spot and starts walking back towards his home, knowing he'll have to wait until darkness covers the town, until he can blend into the night and come and go as he pleases.

\---

You sit in your bed, finishing up the last of your homework, the door to your room closed. There was no moonlight tonight, a incoming storm sending clouds to cloak the night in pitch black. You yawn a bit and lay your head on your book, tapping your pencil against your head as you thought. Your parents are gone until tomorrow morning, and you’re internally joking with yourself about how lame you are for doing your homework when you could have thrown a party or something. Yeah right. A party? Who would come to a party you threw?

_ Patrick Hockstetter. _

You shiver a bit, propping yourself back on your elbows and writing down the last answer to your homework, quickly closing the book and going to set it on your desk. You stand up and walk to the desk, putting it in the pile of finished homework and swear you see movement out of the corner of your eye out the window. You snap your head to look in that direction, looking down at the ground below, and see nothing but black outside. You gulp and shake your head, quickly reaching over and pulling the blinds shut. You're grateful that you already thought to lock the front door. You always did hate being home alone…

As if to make matters worse, you hear a loud bang that sounds like the front door closing, and you nearly jump out of your skin. You had locked the front door, you _ knew _ you had. You had literally just thought of it, seconds ago. You stay completely still, hearing footsteps slowly ascending the stairs, and feel your heart drop. Who was in your house?!

You look around and silently move to your closet grabbing your old softball bat out then going to switching off your lamp before the intruder can come up the stairs. The footsteps stop at the top of the stairs, then seem to go in the other direction, away from your room. You move next to the door, pressing yourself against the wall as much as you can and holding your breath. After a few minutes you hear the footsteps walking towards your side of the hall, and your heart hammers in your chest.

The door handle begins to turn and you grip the bat so hard that your knuckles ache and turn white. The door opens and whoever it is steps it. You cry out and swing the bat, only for him to bring his hand out and catch it, the metal of the bat ringing as it hits the metal of the rings on his fingers. Your breath gets caught in your throat, then he uses his grip on the bat to yank you forward. You scream and his ringed hand claps over your mouth, holding you to him as he throws the bat aside. It hits the floor with a loud, metallic bang, and you struggle as your captor brings his hand around you to keep you still.

“Shh… don't scream… not yet,” he whispers in your ear, pressing himself to you. You freeze, and he slowly let's go of your mouth.

“P-Patrick?” you asked.

“You're silly,” he tells you. He let's go of you and flicks your light on. You turn and look at him. He sees you starting to cry a bit, and the way your skin is flushed with fear, and he giggles with childish excitement. “Did I scare you?”

“Y-Yes!” you snap. He grins. “Why didn't you just knock, why did you have to creep up here like that?! I thought I was gonna get murdered or something!”

“Could still happen,” he teases you.

“Wait, how did you get in? I locked the--?” He holds up the spare key in his hand. “How did you--?”

“I saw you use it earlier, after school,” he explains.

“Y-You saw me come home from school? Where were you?” you question.

“Across the street. You didn't meet me after school like I told you, so I followed you home,” he tells you happily.

“You… followed me?” you breathe. “Wait, so what, are you _ stalking _ me now?!”

“Sure,” he agrees. You gulp as he steps closer to you, his gaze darkening. “I ordered you to wait for me after school. I said meet me outside. And you didn't. You just kept walking. Why?”

“I-I didn't see you,” you tell him honestly.

“Remember the other thing I said?” he wonders. He grabs your hip and pulls you closer to him, so that your bodies are pressed together. “I told you I was gonna find out where you live, and break into your house and fuck you…” You aren't looking right at him, and he grabs your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. He sees the bruised bite on your neck and smiles softly, letting go of your chin and brushing his fingers against it. “I found out where you live…” He brings his hand to the back of your neck gently. “I broke into your house…” You feel his fingers tangle in your hair and grab hold. He moves quickly so that his mouth is next to your ear. “What’dya think I'm gonna do now?” You don't move, gulping and trying to avoid eye contact as much as possible. “I want you to say it. I want you to beg for it, and _ maybe _ I’ll go easy on you…”

You gulp and try to take a breath. “F-Fuck me…” you say, barely loud enough to hear.

He leans in closer, yanking your hair a little. “Hm? What was that, darling, I couldn't hear you. Say it real nice for me, okay? Like you mean it, you're my pet, you need to be loyal to me, and want me. Say it like you mean it…” he instructs, right next to your ear.

You take a shaky breath and close your eyes, swallowing your pride for just a moment. “Fuck me...” you say, putting a little whine into your voice. “P-Please…?”

“Happily.”

He yanks your hair again, and you cry out, your eyes snapping open just in time for you to see yourself get thrown onto your bed. He's over you faster than you can process, grabbing the hem of your sleep shirt and ripping it over your head, covering your face. You gasp as you feel his short nails scratch lightly at the skin of your stomach, then his teeth nip as your hip. You hear a growl, then he's grabbing at the waistband of your panties and pulling them down quickly. He stuffs them in his pocket once he's gotten them off from around your ankles, and he forces himself between your legs, grabbing your tee-shirt again and pulling it roughly off of you, tossing it across your room.

His hands are everywhere in a matter of seconds, squeezing your breasts, pinching your bottom, his nails are scratching down your thighs, his fingers are wrapped around your throat. You're starting to get overwhelmed, trying to crawl backwards away from him, but he grabs your ankle and pulls you back to him. You gasp and grip the sheets a bit, staring up at him in terror, and you can see the way he's taking this in, his ego and his libido feeding off the fear in your eyes, and the bite mark on your neck and the scratch marks forming on your skin. The way your hair is messy from him grabbing it makes him lick his lips, and he's grabbing at it again just because he can. Because you'll let him.

Because you're his…

“P-Patrick…” you whimper, your head starting to ache from him holding your hair. He remembers what he's doing long enough to back away from you and look down on you curiously.

“I'm going to hurt you,” he tells you, his voice sickeningly sweet for the words coming out of his mouth. “You know that don't you? I'm going to grab you. And _ bruise _ you. And cut you and make you bleed for me.” He reaches into his pocket (not the one with your panties in it) and pulls out a silver switchblade knife. “See, I borrowed this from my friend, Henry. He knows I'll be gentle with it, he knows I'll use it _ right _.” He moves closer to you and you try to scramble backwards again. A hand on your thigh keeps you in place and you stare at the knife in his hand, your chest heaving.

“P-Pat--”

“Are your parents going to be home tonight?” he asks curiously, tilting his head a little.

You try to think. “Uh… I-I don't know, maybe… I don't know when,” you lie. You hope the possibility of getting caught is enough to make him stop, but he grins.

“We'll just have to be quick then. The neighbors aren't home, I already checked, and your house is fairly soundproof too, so we don't have to worry about that…”

“What are you talking about?” you whimper.

He blinks. “Well I don't want some nosey neighbor calling the cops on me because they can hear you screaming for me,” he chuckles. “Not that they would. The people in this town like me, they let me do what I want.”

He switches the blade of the knife open and you jump. “Patrick, please, wait!” you gasp. He grabs your throat suddenly and presses the blade of the knife into your thigh. You cry out, writhing in pain, and his eyes widen, his mouth opening as he starts panting through his grin. Your struggling causes the knife to slice across your leg a bit and you sob grabbing his arm. “Stop it, Patrick, please, that hurts!”

He lifts the knife up, only to run his finger along the cut, wonder in his eyes. He collects enough blood that it's dripping down his index finger, and you can practically see his heart beating in his chest. He sticks his finger in his mouth and sucks off the blood, his eyes rolling back a little and a tremor runs down his whole body. You watch in disgusted interest, wincing from the throbbing pain in your thigh and your breath catching in your throat every time a sob hits you.

“Fuck… you're sweet…” he breathes. “You aren't tangy like the rest of them…” You wonder who else he's done this to, and you're about to ask, but he brings his mouth down to the blood on your thigh and started to lick at it and suck on it, humming contently.

“P-Patrick stop it, that's dangerous…” you gasp, your leg feeling tingly from the mix of pain from the cut and his mouth sucking the wound.

He pulls himself away, licking his bloodstained lips, and looks up at you. “I've been looking for someone like you. Someone sweet. I knew you were different.” He closes the knife and tosses it on your nightstand, crawling over your body and grabbing your breast biting down gently on your nipple. You let out a surprised whine, then he moves and starts sucking hickeys onto your breasts. “I have to mark you. No one else can touch you.”

“W-Why me?” you whimper. He pauses and looks up at you, amused. “I-I don't know you, you don't know _ me _\--”

“I suppose it's easy to try and run away from the inevitable,” he chuckles thoughtfully. “Though I know it's only fair to respect the notion that I can't play with what I can't find...” He presses his lips surprisingly softly against your jaw. “I _ did _ find you. It wasn't an accident that I found you alone in that locker room, I was _ meant _ to be there. Now you're mine to play with, sweet blood and all.”

You feel his thumb press just under your chin, not hard enough to hurt, but you can both feel your pulse beating, like it's radiating all your energy into him. “I don't understand--” you try.

“You're naked,” he points out, sitting up suddenly and unbuckling his belt. You hold completely still. “You didn't have to let me undress you. You could have hit me, and run out of your house and called for help. But you let me put you on your bed and undress you. And you haven't complained or tried to cover up once. That bite on your neck was just the first step of making you mine…” He giggles a bit in excitement. “Your mind is mine. Your blood is mine. And now I want your body.”

“W-What, is this some sort of ritual?” you try to joke, but just sound nervous. He shrugs, leaning over you again and running his fingers along your private parts as if it's the most casual thing in the world. You gasp and grab his arm.

“If that's how you need to think of it. This is just the way I need to do this.” He takes a long, deep breath as he looks down at you, keeping his fingers on you, rubbing slowly, teasing your nerves and making you gasp every time they brush over your clit. “I'm going to make you mine tonight…. You're never going to want anyone else after I'm done with you.” You stare up at him worriedly, gripping the sheets as you roll your hips a bit to try and get his fingers where you want them. “Fuck, your adorable… I just wanna cut off little pieces of you and bring them home with me…” Your eyes widen a little, and he laughs at your reaction. “Don't worry, I won't. Didn't go over so well for me last time I tried… I'll just have to eat you instead.”

From the things he was saying to you, that didn't sound any better. You gasp as he moves down and starts licking at the blood on your thigh again, lapping up the droplets spilling down your skin, and sucking on the wound a little. All the while, he keeps his fingers on the hot, wet skin just next to him. He moves his hand a bit, and pressed his thumb hard against your clit. You whine a little and he looks down between your legs, licking his lips half in delight, and half to clean the blood off of his skin. He swallows, then brings his mouth down to your clit, immediately biting down gently on the bundle of nerves.

You cry out, quickly covering your mouth with your hand. He reaches up and pulls at your arm, and your arms drop to your side, and you grip the sheets tightly. He's messy with his mouth, animalistic growls escaping his throat as he licks and bites and sucks everywhere he can, everywhere that pulls a noise from your mouth. He's got you begging, now, grinding against his face as he devours you. Your hand reaches down and grabs at his greasy black hair as you moan out without control, and he hums, loving the attention and the tugging on his scalp.

“P-Patrick, please,” you whine, your toes curling and something like a sob ripping from your throat. “Fuck, please…”

He puts his full attention on your clit, his lips close around it and sucking while his tongue darts around it frantically. You let out a low moan, your hips jerking and your other head to his hair, holding him in place as every muscle in your body tenses up and you start shaking. He continues stimulating you while you orgasm, just to draw it out, even as you squirt into his mouth and over his chin. You collapse flat onto your back, gasping and shaking slightly as he licks you a few more times, pulling your lips apart with his fingers and lapping at the creamy aftermath of his work. He hums and sits up, licking all the juices from his lips and using his finger to get what's on his chin into his mouth.

“I'm going to destroy you…” he says, almost too quietly for you to hear. “I'm going to break every part of you… devour every part of you.” You were frightened, honestly concerned that he might eat you, or murder you…

You watch as he yank his belt of the loops and drops it on your floor, then leans back over you, just looking you up and down for a moment. Once he's gotten his thoughts together, planned his next set of actions carefully, he licks his lips again, leaning down and brushing his nose against yours.

“Do you want me?” he asks, his voice suspiciously gentle against your lips. “You begged for it so well, but I want to know you mean it. Do you mean it?”

“Y-Yes,” you breathe, looking up at him. Your hands absentmindedly move to grab at the loose fabric of his unbuttoned flannel. “I-I do want you…”

“Why?” he presses, keeping eye contact with you. You're taken aback by this follow up question, and you open your mouth uncertainly. He reaches one hand down and you hear the button of his jeans pop open and his zipper coming down. “Why do you want me, pet?

“I-I don't know…” you admit, shaking your head. He still has his hand down near his crotch, and he’s looking into your eyes. “I just… I need you.”

He smiles a little, and you can see him pulling his cock out of his jeans. “Good… that's good… that's what you're supposed to say,” he whispers, adjusting his jeans to get himself completely free. “You're the most perfect thing I've ever made…”

You don't understand what that means, but you aren't given time to think about it as Patrick presses himself against you, and you gasp as he pushes into you. You grab at him arms, your nails scratching against his skin as you stare at him with wide eyes. You whine a bit when he bottoms out, and you feel the denim of his jeans scratch against your thighs.

You starts out surprisingly slowly, standing up almost straight so that he can stare down at you, run his hands up and along your body, studying every curve and mark with his hands and his eyes, trying to map you out, find your weak spots. His thrusts are so slow and gentle that it's almost like he's making love to you

But that only lasts a moment.

As soon as he understands how every part of you works, he grabs your thighs, starting to slam into you with such force that you cry out, and the bed begins to rock and move, and his face is tensed up as he slides in and out of you. God it's so much better than his hand… you're so much better than his hand, you're so much more submissive than he imagined you would be, this is nothing like when he jerks himself off thinking about other girls, or Henry, or even Vic. You're special. You're the perfection he had been looking for. Your blood is sweet, you submit to him, but you’re afraid, and you make such beautiful little noises under him.

He lets out a shaky groan and grabs your waist with a bruising grip, and leans down, sucking on the skin under your breasts, along your ribcage, leaving an uneven line of little hickeys in his wake. He bites into your breast, the other one this time, gently so that his teeth don't puncture, but are sure to bruise. As soon as you're covered in bites and bruises, he pulls out suddenly and uses his grip on your waist to turn you over onto your stomach, then forces you up onto your hands and knees.

You barely have a moment to get used to the position before he slams back into you, making you shout and jerk forward. He continues at the same bruising pace he was at before, but now scratches at your back as best he can with his dirty, short nails. He leans over you to suck a mark onto your shoulder, then he straightens up again, pulling his shirt up a bit to get it out of the way.

His hand is in your hair suddenly and he yanks your head back, making you whine. “I'm the only one that can make you cum. You understand that? You don't think about anyone else, you don't look at someone else, you don't let someone else touch you. You think about me, you look at me, only **I **touch you. Got it?” he growls. You only let out a gasp, so he tugs on your hair harder and wraps his free hand around your throat. “Answer me!”

“Y-Yes!” you whimper, bringing one hand up to his hand on your throat. He lets go, but only so that he can switch positions once again. He gets you on your back and slams back in once more, wrapping both hand around your throat and squeezing a bit. “P-Patrick--”

“Look at me when you cum. Look right at me, don't close your eyes, I wanna see you fall apart,” he hisses at you. Your hands are on his, trying desperately to loosen his grip. He starts fucking you with brutal speed and strength, making choked cries fall from your lips. Your arms fall limply to your sides, weakly gripping at the sheets.

He's pleased that you're still looking at him, even though your eyelids are starting to droop and your eyes are becoming glossy and dull from the lack of oxygen in your lungs. He’s having trouble keeping himself together as your face starts turning a lovely shade of pink, then red, and he let's out a groan, taking one hand and bringing it to your clit, rubbing at it with his thumb quickly. You gasp out as best you can, and your hips wiggle as he keeps on fucking you so hard that it's starting to hurt.

As soon as he sees your legs shaking, and you can barely say his name, he moves his hand away from your throat. You gasp loudly for air just as your orgasm hits you, and your exhale comes out as a loud, grateful moan. He growls a bit and leans over you, grabbing your hair and smashing your lips together, biting down hard as he slams in one more time and groans out. You try to take deep breaths, looking at him as he tries to bring himself down from his own orgasm.

After a moment, he pushed himself up and touches your now bleeding lip. You wince, and he licks his own lips, pulling away from you and letting himself slide out of you. You blush and sit up a bit.

“You… you came inside me…” you said, frowning. He didn't look up you, putting his dick back in his pants.

“And?”

You hesitate and look down just as he looks up at you. “I-I don't… what if I get pregnant?” you mumble.

“You won't. You just got off your period,” he explains, picking up his belt off the ground and slipping it through the loops of his jeans. Before you can ask how he can possibly know that, he walks up to you, finishing buckling his pants back up, and grabs your chin. “Look at you… bruised… bitten… bloody. Everyone at school's gonna think you're a whore.” You turned red and he chuckled a bit, tilting your head to the side so he can examine his work more. “Don't listen to the other children, Y/N. They don't understand. You're mine, and you'll never get anyone better than me…” He made you look at him again and he pressed his lips to yours, not really kissing you, just holding his slightly parted lips lightly against your. “They'll all be so jealous in the end… when they see I'm never going to choose them…”

He doesn't kiss you, slowly pulling away from you and looking at you, his gaze almost angry. “Be good for me, won't you…? I went so easy on you tonight, to celebrate finding you,” he tells you. You're a bit surprised to hear that he went _ easy _ on you. “You'll learn to love getting cut up by me soon enough… we'll work to that. But if you ever so much as talk to another man without my permission, I won't be gentle. I'll have to punish you for real…”

Patrick stood up straight and grabbed Henry's knife off of your nightstand, looking around your room for a moment, then looking down at you again. You blush and wait for him to say something else, but he just stares at you expectantly. You gulp and avert your gaze a bit, tucking some hair behind your ear. “T-Thank you…” you say, hoping it will take his gaze off of you. He smiles and walks up to you again, tilting your chin up.

“I'll see you school tomorrow…” he tells you. “I won't hide this time…” He grins as you nod, and he turns to leave. “Oh, and… I'm taking this with me.” He pulls your spare house key out of his pocket, holding it up for you to see. He sticks it back in his pocket as he starts walking down the stairs, smirking to himself as he reaches into his other pocket, his finger greeted with the lace of your panties. He'll keep those, he thinks, as a reminder that he finally found you, and that you let yourself become his.


End file.
